


At a Crossroad

by mrs_squirrel_chester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, Gen, Major character death - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 07:02:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9373349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_squirrel_chester/pseuds/mrs_squirrel_chester
Summary: He wasn’t offered the same deal as Dean; to torture souls in exchange for being taken off the rack. No, his deal was a little different.





	

“You can do whatever you want, Crowley. Hell, dig her up, burn her while you’re at it. But, you leave her soul alone,” Sam threatened the demon, the self-titled king of Hell.

Crowley smirked, shoving thick-fingered hands deep into his pockets as his eyes flashed crimson. “ _Whatever_ I want, Samantha?”

Squaring his shoulders and balling his hands into fists, Sam towered over Crowley. “Anything. As long as you swear-”

“To leave Y/N alone. I got it.” Crimson bled away, leaving dark eyes to roam over every inch of the looming hunter. “You sure about this? There’s no turning back, no second chances. Nothing. Once it’s done-”

“Do it.”

Crowley hesitated for a beat before snapping. It was loud, echoing in Sam’s head like crackling thunder. He tried not to flinch, to cower, but it was too much. He fell to his knees before Crowley, and curled in on himself.

That’s when the pain started.

It was white-hot and all-consuming, starting deep in the pit of his belly. It spread quickly, like the lighting that danced behind his eyelids. Streaks of gold, white, and pink flickered in time with the beat of his heart, pulsing harder and faster as fear screamed through him. No. He was the one that was screaming. Screaming as if every inch of him -inside and out- were on fire.

He held his hand out to Crowley, pleading silently for help, but all Crowley did was take a step back. “I never said it was painless, Moose.”

The already indescribable pain exploded, tugging at the seams of Sam’s flesh, threatening to rip him apart. He somehow managed to push up to his knees, legs and arms shaking with the effort, and just as he righted himself, there was one last pulse. It arched his back to the point of breaking his spine. His arms flew out and his head snapped back. With his mouth open wide, the blinding white of Sam’s soul shot out in a plume of thick smoke.

While it should have gone to Heaven -Sam had done and sacrificed so much for the greater good- it drifted into an odd shaped jar Crowley possessed. Once Sam stopped screaming and the last bit of his soul was locked away, Crowley held out a hand to the newest member of his team.

“Welcome, Sam. How do you feel?”

Obsidian eyes flicked open and a wicked smile pulled at Sam’s lips. It was odd, the feeling of absolute freedom. When he had been a human, Sam cared entirely too much. Now that he was a human no longer, nothing mattered. Absolutely nothing. It was a fucking rush.

“Never better,” he answered as he stood, rolling his neck and shoulders and spreading his hands out in front of him. He even wiggled his toes.

Crowley smiled proudly. “You ready?”

“Let’s go make some deals.”

* * *

Dean was past frustrated. He had been trying to summon a crossroads demon for over a year. **_Fuck_** , it was closer to 18 months. Every spell and incantation that had worked in the past went unanswered. He was ready to fucking explode.

He was currently on his knees and digging a hole in the middle of a crossroads. Not just any crossroads. This one was smack in the middle of a devil’s trap. Lore had it that nothing could resist a summoning from there. Dean didn’t care that the devil’s trap -iron railroads Samuel Colt himself had built- wasn’t secure. All he wanted were answers.

Standing tall, he brushed off his knees and turned in a circle, fury and utter frustration bubbling in his chest. “Come on, you son of a bitch,” he snarled.

“Easy there, Dean. I’m right here. You don’t have to yell.”

No. It couldn’t be.

Dean spun around and came face to face with his brother. “Sam,” he sputtered. “That you?”

It was, but it wasn’t. Everything about him was the same, but it was so very different. The air crackled around him, buzzing with invisible electricity just searching for someone to shock.

“What? Not who you expected?” Sam asked as he started to circle his brother.

Dean watched Sam… not-Sam carefully, his wide palm itching for the butt of his gun. “Definitely not. What happened to you, man?”

Sam chuckled low in his throat, and it drove a chill down Dean’s spine. “You already know the answer to that, Dean.” Even the way Sam said his name made Dean want to vomit.

He’d be lying if he denied knowing what happened to his little brother, but Dean didn’t want to believe it; Sam was a demon. Out of all the questions he wanted to ask, only one was spoken, “Why?”

Sam _tsk’d_ , shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his black trench, and shuffled to a stop, standing atop the small box Dean had buried. “Your brother… well, he was a sentimental bastard. But as much as he loved you, and shit, did he love you, there was someone that occupied his heart and thoughts more.”

“Y/N,” Dean breathed. “But… she’s dead.”

“And thanks to Sam, her soul is in Heaven; untouched, pure as the freshly fallen snow.” He tipped his head back and gazed at the twinkling stars.

That was information Dean didn’t have before. And now that he had it, things started to make sense. “Crowley wanted her soul.”

Sam pulled in a deep breath of crisp air that would have made his former self cough a little. “And poor, grief-stricken Sammy couldn’t bear to see that happen.”

Dean’s breathing quickened, tearing in and out of him as his mind raced. “How long?”

“How long, what?” Sam watched Dean’s reaction and scoffed before answering his own question, “Oh, Dean. You think Sam got a normal deal. I thought you were smarter than that.”

Stumbling back, Dean swiped a hand over his face and through his hair, mumbling to himself, “No, no, no.”

Sam was chuckling, growing louder with each step toward Dean. “There’s nothing you can do, Dean, no deal that can be made, no trade of your life for Sam’s. This is it.”

“No,” Dean said again. “There’s always something.” Whether he registered it or not, he had unsheathed the demon killing blade and was gripping the handle tight.

“Sure, you could kill me, but you’d be killing your brother.”

Dean’s eyes flashed. “You’re not my brother.”

Sam chuckled again. “But I am, Dean. You kill me, you’re not killing some random demon.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked through clenched teeth.

As Sam started to circle Dean for the second time, he pulled in a deep breath. “When Crowley ripped out my soul, I thought it would be like before. Remember when I didn’t have a soul, brother? Ah, those were the good old days. Anyway, Crowley had something else up his sleeve. I wasn’t just going to be one of his lowly crossroad lackeys. He had bigger things in mind. Let me ask you something. What is a demon?”

The question took Dean by surprise, momentarily throwing him off. It took only a moment to recover. “Someone whose soul has been twisted and turned to the point of no return.”

Sam’s smile made Dean’s skin crawl. “Gold star for you,” the demon exclaimed, clapping in mock exaltation.

“How long?” It was the same question, but the context was different.

“How long did Crowley wreak havoc on my soul? I lost count after the first hundred years.”

Dean’s eyes snapped shut and he let out a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry.”

A laugh all but exploded out from Sam. “Dude, I’ve never felt better! Everything is better now.”

“How can you say that?” Dean’s entire body was thrumming with a multitude of emotions.

Sam cocked his head and his eyes went pitch. “You’re plotting something.”

It was now or never, kill or be killed. Dean launched himself toward the demon that used to be his brother. At least he tried. He stopped mid-air, screaming and cursing in frustration.

Sighing heavily, Sam shook his head. “I wish you hadn’t done that.” With a flick of his wrist, Dean went flying through air, landing at the base of a thick and overgrown oak tree.

Dean tried to regain the air that had been driven from his lungs, cursing himself mentally when Sam picked up the blade and pocketed it as he strode over. Sam motioned at the hunched over hunter, and Dean’s back went rod straight. He pulled in a rasping breath and grabbed at the invisible hand on his neck.

“What do you want?” Dean managed to ask.

Gone were the calico eyes of Sam Winchester. They were now obsidian, the darkest black Dean had ever seen, and then some. “You, dear brother.”

Dean’s fear-filled eyes went wide for a beat, and then his stubborn streak kicked in. “Go to Hell,” he snarled.

Sam scoffed and craned his neck until it popped loudly, pulling a satisfied grown from the demon. “That’s the plan.” With a wicked smirk, Sam snapped his fingers.


End file.
